


No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

by firelord65



Series: Fecky's Whumptober Oneshots [13]
Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Chemical Pneumonia, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, NB!Imposter, Sabotage, The Skeld (Among Us), White acting kinda Sus, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27001183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65/pseuds/firelord65
Summary: Blue has taken it upon herself to improve the Skeld's poor ventilation systems. Hopefully then things won't fall apart so often.
Relationships: Crewmate & Imposter (Among Us)
Series: Fecky's Whumptober Oneshots [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950469
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fourth Among Us fic (!!?!?!?) which is just crazy. Anyways, don't have much to say beyond the usual. Working through the prompt list from Whumptober~
> 
> Day 13: Breathe In, Breathe Out - ~~Delayed Drowning~~ | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

To be one of the command crew for MIRA, one had to have top marks, great references, and a level head. Positions were always publicly listed - no internal ladder climbing required - and often the new Captains and Commanders were sent off by their communities with great excitement. 

To be a crewmate on the Skeld required a “past history of education.” 

Blue felt a little underwhelmed when she sat through her orientation training, thumbing through the six page pamphlet that had been handed to her. She dutifully listened to the pre-recorded lesson on basic space living and jotted down a handful of questions for the instructor when the video was over. With her hand in the air, Blue was ready to dive into the rest of orientation. 

The instructor blinked at her and frowned. “We don’t usually take questions,” he murmured. The rest of the class sat limply in their chairs. It looked like Orange hadn’t even opened his pamphlet at all. 

Blue wiggled her hand again. “Is there a specific intermix of gas needed for the suits? Or do most cargo vessels just have the one in storage and processing?” she asked without waiting to be called on. It apparently wasn’t going to happen. 

The instructor looked down at his desk. He had the rest of the pamphlets that would have gone to the empty seats in the room, Blue guessed. “It’s not in the material. I’m sure it’s fine,” he replied. 

It wasn’t an answer and Blue opened her mouth to press further. She was interrupted by the instructor flicking the lights back on and ushering them out the door. “There’s another group coming in a few minutes. We all have a schedule to keep. Chop, chop!” 

Blue fidgeted in her suit as she entered the airlock. The Skeld was docked on the surface here in her home colony of Callisto. It had made taking the job somewhat easier; she wouldn’t need to wait for a shuttle up to Station Eight to board one of the massive Hyperion-class ships. It also just made her feel like she was just… walking to work. Or maybe going to board a bus. It didn’t feel like she was going to be leaving atmo and flying trade routes for the next three months of her contract. 

She tried to make a good first impression on her new fellow crewmates. Many were newcomers like herself, all graduates of the MIRA orientation program such as it was, but two were seasoned crewmates from the company. 

“MIRA doesn’t like to send a total ship of newbies,” Purple explained over their first meal together, pre-packaged ration packs that popped out of the dispenser like the universe’s most underwhelming slot machine. Blue picked at her re-hydrated vegetables and tried to figure out what the protein was in-between taking her turn to list off an anecdote about herself. 

Red was trying for the leadership track. Purple told him it wasn’t worth his time which seemed to have no effect on the man’s insistence. 

Lime claimed to be half Yrelian, just the bottom half though. No one seemed inclined to check, Blue included. 

Cyan was planning on ship hopping until he made it to the edge of corporate space and then found his own colony. 

Orange knew three dialects of sign language and offered to teach everyone. 

“Pass,” was Pink’s offering to the group. She had a sour expression on her face that no one yet was brave enough to contest. Her ration pack was unopened in front of her, though, and it was possible she was just sore over getting fruitcake and gelatin. 

White - the other experienced crewmate - didn’t say anything at all either. This spurred Orange to try out his alleged linguist skills without much success. Purple shook his head and told him off. “White just doesn’t talk. Won’t be a problem. They can still show you all the quirks of the Skeld though,” he explained. 

That meant it was Blue’s turn. She settled her shoulders and folded her hands, ready to share with the group. That was when the first alarm went off. 

Blue’s heart lurched into her throat. “What does that mean?” she said frantically. The group split off into different directions, Purple leading one cluster one way and Red valiantly directing another down the opposing hall. 

White clasped a hand on Blue’s shoulder and pointed to one of the screens on the wall of the cafeteria. An error message crawled across it: O2 failure in 4 minutes. Blue pulled her visor down and turned back to White. “What do we do?” she asked. White stood there a moment, their body language indecipherable. Then they pointed again, this time in the direction of the hall that Purple had gone through. 

“Let’s go, then!” Blue said quickly. Her boots thundered as she made her way towards… well she wasn’t sure what, but she felt that she needed to do  _ something _ !

She stumbled on Purple’s group all clustered around something in the second room she passed by. The label painted on the wall declared it to be O2. Blue tried to inject herself into the cluster of suits by one of the interfaces. Purple was writing something down on a sticky note and Lime was repeating numbers to a very flustered looking Pink. 

“It’s not that difficult!” Lime barked. Pink jabbed at the interface one final time and the alarm stopped blaring. 

Blue stood on her tiptoes, trying to understand what had just happened. From behind, she heard Red’s booming voice coming down the hall. “Yes, it’s just over here. You can just follow the lines on the walls actually,” he explained loudly. 

Purple slapped the sticky note on the panel and trudged past the group. “Crisis averted,” he said flatly. “Let’s go back to dinner.” He pushed Blue briskly to start back to the cafeteria. She sank back down on her heels, still feeling very much lost. 

“Great work, crew!” Red crowed cheerfully over everyone’s heads. Blue realized later that White was the only one who hadn’t ended up back in O2. They weren’t at dinner part two, either, which made Blue a little upset. She had wanted to keep going on their tiny moment before. It would be nice to have a friend on board, someone to show her the ropes. 

* * *

Experience was a quick teacher. Blue almost didn’t have time to think as the Skeld hopped between normal duties - navigating, maintaining communications with MIRA HQ, and managing their cargo they were hauling - and the constant stream of issues that came up. Wiring would fry. Lights would conk out. The threat of reactor breakdown had Blue checking her med scan nearly daily. The Skeld was a flying wreck. 

Blue loved it, in a weird sort of way. Her tablet kept a running to-do list for her, the most urgent tasks highlighted and the  _ would be nice _ ones always on standby to help improve their trek. Red was making a big fuss always over the team management that he insisted he was performing - he wasn’t - but Blue liked to think that she was actually making some kind of difference on the Skeld. 

Her first major project had been in O2 after that initial scare on liftoff. While Purple’s override code was necessary in case of emergencies, Blue very much preferred to prevent those instead of tide them over. She was in that compartment constantly. Her knowledge on HVAC was limited only to “big fan plus tubes means air goes whoosh,” but she wasn’t going to let that get in her way. 

That just meant there were only really two places where things could go wrong, right? It was usually the big fan - the central unit that Purple’s code would reboot - rather than the vents. 

White would occasionally join Blue when she was working on her project, sitting on top of the tubing that lead out to the other parts of the ships. They liked to perch whether it was on the tables in the cafeteria or atop the reactor when it was functioning properly. Blue didn’t mind. She appreciated the quiet company. White really seemed to like when she would peel open the big grates over the fan and adjust the wiring inside. Blue had to agree. It felt like a whole ‘nother world inside of the unit. 

Of course, just because it was Blue’s pet project didn’t mean that she had time to work on it whenever she wanted to. Her task list took priority and she had to take care that whatever she did never took the system offline. Red had taken her aside one day to talk through her plans and impress how critical the system was. “We all die if O2 goes,” he said sagely, as though this wasn’t the one single thing that orientation  _ had _ covered. 

Blue was working in the central unit when the lights cut out. She grumbled under her breath and stuck her head out. “Hey White, do you mind-” she started to ask when she realized that they were no longer atop their perch on the outgoing vent. “Guess you’re already on top of things, then.” Shaking her head, Blue fumbled around for her light and returned to the unit. She needed to button it back up before the next cycle was due to click on. 

Having no visibility slowed Blue to a crawl. She cocked her head to listen for the tell-tale clicks of the lights coming back online and heard only the hum of the engines. Sweat trailed down her spine as her nerves kicked up a notch. It had been well over five minutes. If White had gone to fix the lights then, they should have already been back online. A nervous flutter took up residence in Blue’s stomach. 

Everything would be fine. She was cutting things a little close, but she was going to be out of the central unit before the next air cycle. Glancing out the panel to her tablet, Blue considered wriggling out to check her time. But no, that would only eat up precious seconds that she could have been using to finish her work on the manifold. That was the last piece she had to tweak and then she could get out. 

The fans wouldn’t kick on. She had plenty of time. Blue repeated the mantra to herself as she fumbled with the magnetic bolts in front of her. With just her personal light on, it was difficult to check that she was rotating the bolts the right way. She relied on instinct and her own gut that it was good enough. 

Her nerves were getting to her and she practically threw herself out of the unit, pulling her legs out as quickly as her suit would allow. Her heart thrummed in her ears as she waited for the  _ whoosh _ of the fan starting up. Seconds dragged on before Blue’s muscles relaxed. She looked down at her tablet. It would be another forty seconds before O2 was due to kick back on. Now that she was safely out of the way of the fan blades, Blue had plenty of time to re-engage the rest of the systems that she’d taken offline. The recyclers and scrubbers were going to be operating at 115% if her estimates were correct. 

She let out a nervous laugh, feeling stupid for too many reasons. Rolling onto her back she laughed again. Her light caught a familiar white shape and Blue sat up on her elbows. “Hey White,” she greeted. “Have you heard anything about the lights?”

They twisted sharply to face Blue. She had to squint to see the glint of White’s visor in the dark of the room. They hadn’t turned on their light. “White?” she asked quietly. They were acting strangely, a sack tumbling out of their hands. 

Blue pushed herself up to her feet again and she approached White cautiously. They stepped back in tempo with Blue, hunching slightly. Blue bent down to pick up the sack, frowning as she saw particulates drifting lazily to the ground. As if on cue, the fan behind them roared to life. 

“What did you do?” Blue asked hoarsely. She recognized it now, the industrial strength fertilizer that they had hauled two weeks ago. There had been over a dozen warning labels and pictograms on the shipping container. The skull and crossbones had leered over Blue every time that it was her turn for inventory. 

Suddenly, White launched themself at Blue. They scrambled over one another, rolling into the hallway. From behind White’s helmet, Blue could hear something for the first time. Snarling, gnashing teeth snapped at her only to crash against the reinforced visor. “White, what are you doing?” Blue screamed. 

The wave of understanding that crashed over Blue hurt more than White’s assault. She had been played. White knew her routine, knew how she turned everything off and then worked on the fan unit. They knew that right now, right at this moment, O2 was just one big recirculation unit for the poison they had just dumped in. 

Their hands shoved at Blue’s, pinning her down before those horrible noises faded and both crewmates were left watching one another through their visors. Blue’s light was blinding her, the only light on the whole side of the ship it seemed. “What did you do?” Blue sobbed. She realized now that all of her lovely improvements to airflow would only scatter the chemical further. Their suits weren’t equipped with any scrubbers - that was the whole point of O2. It would be redundant to give the crewmates the additional filtration in their personal units. 

“We’re all going to die, aren’t we?” Blue realized. She had stopped fighting White. It seemed futile when there wasn’t another MIRA ship in ten thousand kilometers. Even if Blue shut down O2 now, they would get, what, ten more minutes of air before they needed the recyclers? They had run through the bulk of the backup tanks in the past hour while Blue had worked. 

Tears pricked at Blue’s eyes and she closed them to keep from crying. It didn’t seem worth it. “Oh, White,” she sighed. They were still pinning her down, perched one last time like a bird of prey. 

Blue took a shaky breath and coughed immediately. She laughed and coughed and convulsed with White still holding her wrists. The fan and the vents - they were so damn efficient now. The poison was airborne already. It had taken, what, two minutes? If that? Blue’s cheeks were streaked with tears she couldn’t stop now. 

White shifted from atop her, apparently satisfied that she was now incapacitated. Blue rolled onto her side to cough more. Each breath she took in brought more poison into her lungs. It burned, it scalded, it made her chest ache. No, that last part was from the betrayal actually. Blue leveraged herself onto her elbow to look one last time at White. They had scurried away, back into O2. 

“So that’s why you never spoke,” Blue croaked out angrily. “You were always a traitor!” She wanted to rant more, to scream and yell at the friend she thought she had had. Her lungs protested and seized, sending her into another painful series of coughs. She got angrier though when White returned, throwing her fist weakly at White’s chest. They were holding the emergency supply of air, a single, perfect blend of oxygen and nitrogen that Blue’s tinkering wouldn’t have messed with. Blue sobbed as she watched White unravel the tubing oh so carefully. 

This was White’s escape plan. One setup of air to help survive until they could re-engage the scrubbers and filter out the poison. A clean job with no survivors to go running to MIRA. No one would miss the Skeld. HQ would hardly care if their tiny cargo route went dark for a bit. 

Blue ground her teeth together and tried to stop breathing so much. It went against every instinct as her lungs were now on fire. She couldn’t stop even as she knew it was killing her. White sank down to their knees and reached for Blue’s helmet. Blue tried weakly to swat them away, but her hands weren’t responding anymore. She’d failed. She couldn’t stop White. Even now they were taking away the one piece of equipment that might slow the poison down for a millisecond more.

And replacing it with the oxygen mask to the emergency unit. Blue hacked down her first breath, unsure just what was going on. The next inhale was just as painful. White tugged down the mask to let Blue cough again before quickly replacing it again. Blue could only stare as White carefully held the mask to her face, checking that it was fully secure. Then they were gone again, disappearing into the darkness of O2 again. 

Blue concentrated just on breathing, not on the complete 180 of White’s behavior. Her mind was reeling - from confusion and from oxygen deprivation, some tenth grade biology lesson reminded her. Slowly she heard the sound of the other O2 systems being brought online. The recyclers, the CO2 converters, and the most precious hiss of the scrubbers being looped back into the system. 

White came back to hold Blue once more, their figure haloed by Blue’s light. Blue still coughed, but it didn’t break her spine each time. White kept their hand firmly on her shoulder, just as they had done on that first day. She could think, could feel. Could wonder at just what White would do with her next. 

Would do… for her?


End file.
